You never know just where you'll go ...

I've been meaning to get back to the blog for awhile now. I mean, life keeps happening, and I keep saying to myself: Oh, I should blog about that. And then I don't. I get busy or do something else entirely and the moment passes. But I really really should put this stuff out there ... so here goes:

Way back a couple of weeks ago ... on my birthday, actually, Papergirl Vancouver rode out on their bikes and gave away hundreds of pieces of artwork, mine included. I DID actually manage to blog about it here and here. And I even managed to blog about the Papergirl exhibit launch here. But something else came out of my Papergirl experience, something kinda cool that I didn't even know existed until I was contacted.

Here's what happened ... at the Papergirl exhibit launch I got into a great little conversation with Jeanette. We walked around a bit together and showed each other the stuff we liked, and (without seeming too cocky) I'd have to say she really liked the collage I'd done, and I'd happened to bring a couple of extra prints along (just in case - you never know!) so I gave her one.

Now the funny thing is (and I'm sure I'm not the only person who feels like this) but I usually feel that what I've done is Not So Special. Oh, I like it fine, and I'm pretty happy when other people like it, but when other people Really Really Like It, I'm always a bit mystified. This topic came up at our art retreat, and I was finally able to find the words to describe why some of us are so hard on ourselves when it comes to our art ... basically, it boils down to: Other people see what we've done, while we see what we weren't able to do. For others, it's like we've made something out of nothing (where DO you get your ideas!?), but we see all the places where we "fudged" the process trying to get whatever it was in our heads onto the page, and even though we might *like* the result, it might not be exactly what we were hoping, so we doubt ourselves.

Anyway, big big thanks to Jeanette, who very kindly passed my info on to Jason at Illustrated Vancouver, who kindly asked me if he could add my artwork to his ongoing project to collect 1000 pieces of artwork featuring Vancouver. His collection is quite amazing, and even though I've only lived in Vancouver for 25 years, I know (and love) so many of the places featured in the pieces he's selected and I'm thrilled to be included. Also, now that I'm following his site regularly, I'm thrilled to see that not only is one of the blogs I regularly follow (Design Sponge) having a book launch October 1st in Vancouver, but they're holding it at Anthropologie (wait!? we have an Anthropologie store and I didn't know it!? Man .. I have *got* to get out more!). Just so you don't think I'm a design snob ... my favourite part of Design Sponge is where people post little cards saying what they love about their house, and the department I'm planning to hit at Anthropologie is the book section (of course!). So, all in all, double thanks to Jason for all that.

From the moment I saw the Papergirl Vancouver poster hanging in a store window in my neighbourhood just a few short days before their deadline, I knew I wanted to contribute something so they would be around next year. I knew exactly what I wanted to make, and how I was going to make it. And (luckily) I left the next day for my art retreat where I knew I would have the time and materials to pull it off. Their deadline was the day after I got back so I quickly had it scanned and printed, and then couriered to their office (I would have loved to deliver it in person, but I had to work!). The whole process from discovery to creation to delivery seemed magical in some way. Maybe magical isn't the right word ... but I felt like I was tuned in to something ... a flow ... a connection ... a pulse, yeah, that's more like it ... like there's a river of energy in the world all the time, and for some reason, for the duration of the project, I could feel it, and let it guide me. Anyone who knows me knows I'm a pretty down to earth, if-you-want-something-done-give-it-to-the-busy-person, here-let-me-organize-that-for-you kind of person, so having such a great result and having my artwork acknowledged that little bit further than I was ever expecting is pretty darn cool. Thanks again to Papergirl Vancouver, Jeanette, Jason and my ever-encouraging art retreat compadres (you know who you are!).

... then there was the collage

My plan from the beginning was to reproduce the collage for the Papergirl Vancouver project in black and white, which meant the papers I used would need to be a variety of patterns, but similar in value and tone. My solution was to use security envelope linings, of which I have quite a few collected.

Having cut up my traced and numbered drawing (see previous post), I started working from the background to the foreground. I laid each numbered template piece onto the selected envelope lining, being careful to match the top edge of the piece exactly but extending the bottom edge so there'd be something to glue the next layer onto.

The North Shore mountains were easy, and once I had them in place I could feel my confidence growing that my idea was going to work! Next I put in the forests of Stanley Park, and then moved east along the cityscape, putting skyscrapers in the background and layering lower buildings in front of them. There's no way I could be even close to accurate about the buildings given the scale I was working in, but I was highly amused to find an envelope lining from Telus (one of BC's largest phone companies) in my collection, so there is a Telus Building. The building just behind the Telus building is made from an envelope lining from the Hudson's Bay Company (thanks, Rose!), and if you know anything about Canadian history, you'll know why having an HBC building is very apropos.

The waves on English Bay are made with a series of lumpy almost concentric half ovals, starting with the largest on the bottom, and then all glued down at once, covering up the edges of the forest and the city. In the foreground, a path from a grass and shrubbery-edged manicured lawn leads down to the sandy beach.

Although I'd planned the cloud from the very beginning, I came across a zigzag lightning envelope lining that seemed oh so appropriate for how quickly the weather can turn here (yes, it can rain on a moment's notice!).

When it was all finished I realized the North Shore mountains needed *a little something* to break up their dark dominance, and while a few little snips of white would've given me seagulls, I thought if I was viewing the city from Jericho Beach or Spanish Banks (surely the location from whence this scene is viewed), what I'd mostly likely see is a floatplane headed for Burrard Inlet on the other side of Stanley Park. It took a few tries to get it down to a small size (it should probably be smaller, but my fingers kept getting in the way of the scissors) , and adding white wings made it uber-recognizable as a plane.

I'm just so tickled at how it turned out. I don't think I ever got from concept to completion on anything quite as fast as this (approx 8 hours), and it's something I'm happy to contribute to the Papergirl Vancouver project. If you live in Vancouver, keep an eye out for girls on bikes!

First there was the plan ...

I seldom show the planning stages of my projects, but since this was the first time I'd done something like this and it worked out so successfully, I thought I'd share how easy-peasy it was. My goal was to create a collaged cityscape that could be easily reproduced to donate to the Papergirl Vancouver project.

I wanted to do a recognizable Vancouver cityscape, and surprisingly, I was actually able to sketch one out. I guess I've been looking at The Lions (the two peaks on the mountains) long enough that I was able to capture them even though I was far away from home at the time I drew this. Guess that makes me a *real* Vancouverite now.

After I finished the sketch, I delineated the collage areas with a black felt pen, and numbered them so I could place all the pieces in the right location during construction.

Then I overlaid my sketch with another piece of blank paper, and traced the delineated areas, again numbering them, so that when I cut up the traced copy I could use the bits and pieces as templates for cutting out papers for the collage.

To see how it all turns out, check out my next post ...